


Fantasies

by marippe



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marippe/pseuds/marippe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little teasing from Candice gives Hikari ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasies

"Is it true?"

I glared at the text message sitting on my desk. Candice. What could Candice possibly want?

"What?" I texted back, before returning to my homework.

"About Cyrus's dick."

I slammed my head against the desk. Ugh. That. The idiocy that had gone on on Facebook this afternoon. "I wouldn't know, Candice," I replied, hoping she would just drop the subject. It was Candice, so of course she wouldn't, but one could hope.

"Oh, come on! You've never seen it, really? But inquiring minds want to know, Hikki! Does he have a metal cock?"

"I don't know."

"But you're curious."

"Mind your own business."

There was no response after that. Not because she was actually minding her own business, I knew, but because she was trying to think of the best way to annoy me next. Besides, I found myself thinking, metal was impractical. It would probably be some sort of plastic, more malleable than metal, with metal workings underneath, and--

Why was I even entertaining this thought?

I was tempted to ask him, but I thought I probably already knew the answer. Aside from his leg, he was still human. Well, still...still natural, at least. Something like that. I wondered, though, if it hadn't been, would he let me touch it? Immediately, I banished the thought from my mind, and turned back to my homework. I would not entertain this any longer.

Some hours later, I'd finished, and returned to my room from eating dinner downstairs. It was early, but I was more tired than usual. I dressed for bed, shut the door, and settled into bed. Unbidden, the thought came back. If it wasn't bionic, what did it look like? Was it big? Was he cut? (I knew that now, that some men were and some men weren't. As much as I knew there was not much difference either way, foreskin was...icky to look at.) Was his here there the same color as the hair on his head, or was it darker? Did he trim it? (Probably not.) When it was touched, did he sigh? Did he yearn for more?

My hand had found its way down the front of my pajama bottoms. Fingers were feeling along my lips, and I started in my half-dreaming state, but did not stop. It was curious, the things that turned me on so easily that within minutes, I was dripping down there. I was still learning, each little thing that made my body respond, each little thought that made the spot between my legs beg for release with a hot ache.

The most effective at elliciting a response, I'd learned, was thinking of him. No surprise there, really. I was determined to be satisfied with what we had, but I didn't think he would mind what I did with him in my own head, as long as there was no carryover into the real world. I knew I wanted him, more than I could put to words, but it was a want that would always go unfulfilled except in my fantasies.

In my dreams, he would kiss me all over, from my face, to my neck (I would whimper and lean towards him, but he would have already moved on), out to my shoulders, down each arm, to my wrist, and then carefully, one gentle kiss on each fingertip. I would be squirming on the bed. And then he would drop my hands, and ghost his fingers over the arches of my feet, around my ankles, up my legs, past my knees. He would be kissing again by the time he got to my thighs, and so softly, he would get so close, so close to that spot between my legs, but then just like that, he would move again, back to my torso.

He would kiss my clavicle, then move down the swell of one breast, and stop. He would kiss one nipple, so softly at first, until he heard my whimper of pleasure, and saw the nipple being to harden. He would kiss harder, sucking a little, just enough to make me want to scream. Maybe he would let his teeth graze the sensitive skin, before backing away, and looking at me.

I had tossed back the covers. I had ripped open my pajama top. My breasts were hanging open in the cold night air, but my chest was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and my hands, fingers buried deep in the folds of my pussy, were soaked, and it still wasn't enough.

Satisfied with the view of me helpless, begging for him, hair splayed out on the pillows, brow lined in sweat. He would kiss a line down my torso, between my breasts, pausing at my belly button. I was ticklish, and he'd smirk before moving on, down, down, past the mass of messy black curls, down. When his tongue darted out and licked /there/, I'd moan out loud, head thrown back in pleasure.

One finger, two, had made their way in, and I was thrusting, legs spread wide to get better leverage. It was not enough. It just was not enough. His fingers were bigger than mine, his cock - I let out a gasping moan into the pillow. Surely it would be bigger still. I drew one hand away, reached out for the handle of my bedside table's drawer. It was right there, the vibrator I liked to pretend didn't exist.

Metal was impractical. If he did replace it with a bionic version, I bet it would be more like this than fully robotic.

I slid it into my vagina, and barely managed to bite back the gasp that wasn't muffled against my pillow this time. I bet if he replaced it, it would feel like this.

He'd spend moments there, feeling every inch of me with his tongue, but I wouldn't last long. I wanted more, I wanted him. I'd lift my hips from the bed, I'd beg, please, please, please! Fuck me. Don't just tease me with your tongue, fill me with your cock, real or otherwise, it doesn't matter, and fuck me!

He would oblige. He'd pull me onto his lap, and then before I could ask again, he would give in to my begging, and I could feel him, hips slamming against mine with no mercy, none at all, and it didn't matter, because it was absolutely exquisite. I had let go, and so had he, and it didn't matter that sex was still a frightening thing, we were lost in the moment. I was crying, but because it felt so good, because he was fucking me, and every sense was filled, just like he was filling me.

I switched the vibrator on, and nearly screamed. Yes. Fill me up, fuck me, want it was much as I do!

One thrust, so hard. I was going to hurt in the morning, I knew. Right now, it felt so good. Again, again, just as hard. He would near his limit, but he would lean down over my body, and his lips would meet mine, and we would kiss. He would cry my name into my mouth as he came, and that, too, would feel so wonderful. My own movements beneath him would be frenzied, frantic to feel the last few seconds of hardness. He would kiss my neck, I would slam against his hips--

"Ah!"

And there it was, those intense waves of feeling, slamming over me one after the other. I turned my head to the side, gasping for air. It would never happen like that, but for the time being...well, I still had something.


End file.
